She is a moon upon the nights of cities,
Who glows and gives the gleamy lights of cities.
The 8-bit sounds do sing and neon-kanji
Is written, showing pretty sights of cities.

The moon's like a 'C', the strips like a 'I'
The bridge's like a 'T', the ways like a 'Y'.

There, the orange and shining sun,
Does shimmer on the sea,
Returning till the breezing dawn,
So things become nightly.

The streets and sights of the city,
Welcomed by nightly wind,
Become more slowly more pretty,
With neon light who's signed.

The rain does fall upon the street,
Of Flushing bright at night,
The place where grey concrete does meet
With crystal droplets bright.

Around the crowded corner late,
There're signs with neon lights,
With crowds who view, who conversate,
While longing for new sights.

Upon the lengthy crowded lane,
The people roam around,
While skies are pouring tender rain,
Along the city sound.

The signs describe the tasty foods,
So much and more to pick,
The nightly times do set some moods,
Attracting people quick.

I'm singing songs about this place,
At early twilight times,
About its sights, about its ways,
So happily with rhymes.

The olden buildings are combined,
With lights of bright neon,
Who're making pasts with now aligned,
Like the poet Gihon.

She's adoring the skies who're with colors aglow,
While alone at the dusk who's rosaceous and blue,
As a child she is looking politely with charms,
And again with a camera to capture the view.

You shift in shapes like poems change their feel,
Yet you are still remaining really real.

White gauzy smoke is blown through the lily,
Floating on air,
Fondling leaves and dewdrops who're glittery,
A view so rare.

On a picture elegance is enjoyed,
A Polaroid,
Presented in a silver-gallery,
Who's gloomy ne'er.

With gauzy threads from a silky cocoon,
White as the moon,
Lily-hands craft blooming embroidery,
With flowers there.

Like gossamers this elegance's tender,
Lit and slender,
Shining at the afternoon silvery,
Which does not flare.

O Mâhî, this form is a web of rhymes,
Who slowly chimes,
With threads we're finally stitching poetry,
Crafted with care.